ATPnovel Chapter 26 Eastern Witchcraft and Jack the Butcher
Chapter 26 Eastern Witchcraft and Jack the Butcher
"Butcher" Jack, full of rage, was shocked to see his warehouse engulfed in flames, and the sinister smile on his face vanished instantly.
He watched helplessly as his largest purse, the very foundation he used to support hundreds of his brothers, was continuously reduced to ashes in that hellish green flame.
"You bunch of bastards, what are you standing there for! Put out the fire!"
Several daring thugs, carrying buckets of water, tried to rush over, but as soon as they got close to the alley entrance, they were driven back by the indescribable stench and thick smoke.
"No...this fire...this smoke is poisonous!"
One by one, they bent over, coughing and vomiting violently, and dared not approach any further.
Jack kicked aside a hesitant subordinate and tried to rush forward with a bucket of water, but was forced back by a wave of heat.
He stared at the sea of fire, trembling not from fear, but from extreme rage.
Jack realized he had been tricked.
From the rumor of his escape to the riots in the wealthy neighborhood, it was all a trap.
The other party never intended to confront him head-on; their target from the very beginning was his money.
This is that damned Eastern witchcraft!
On a distant rooftop, Levi quietly watched the firelight, watching Jack, the "Butcher," who was furious but powerless in the firelight.
Seamus and the others had recovered from their initial shock, replaced by a fanatical worship.
They looked at Li Wei's retreating figure as if they were looking at a god.
"Sir, we succeeded!" Seamus said in a low voice, suppressing his excitement.
Li Wei didn't turn around, but simply uttered two words.
"retreat."
He led the group and quietly retreated from the rooftop, disappearing into the intricate alleyways of the southern district.
At that moment, the butcher's warehouse exploded with a loud bang, becoming the backdrop for this retreat.
When I returned to the warehouse in the North District, it was already dawn.
Everyone hadn't slept all night, but their faces showed no signs of fatigue; instead, they were filled with excitement.
They set off a massive fire, a revenge that would go down in the annals of Boston gangster history.
Finn looked at Levi, a complex light flickering in his single eye.
He had expected it to be a bloody battle, but Li Wei delivered a fatal blow to "The Butcher" in a way he never imagined, without shedding a drop of blood.
Li Wei walked to the blackboard and erased all the plans he had written down.
He picked up the charcoal pencil and rewrote the two words:
Money, and people's hearts.
"Jack's power was built on his money. He could use money to buy thugs and intelligence. Now, his money is gone."
Li Wei tossed the charcoal pencil onto the table and turned to the crowd.
"What was burned wasn't just the rum and fabric, but also his prestige in the South. A boss who can't pay his employees will soon be devoured by his hungry wolves."
He looked at Seamus, whose face, once filled with anger, now held something entirely new.
"Sir, what do we do next?"
Li Wei walked up to him and placed the lead bullet he always carried with him into Seamus's hand.
"The war has only just begun. We've destroyed his money; next, we'll take his heart."
……
The fire burned all night.
The next day, the whole of Boston smelled a strange odor, a mixture of burnt and rotting leather. The wind blowing from the South Wharf made people feel nauseous.
In the alleys of the southern district, women cursed the damned weather while vigorously beating the tattered bed sheets that were drying in the sun, as if that would drive away the stench that had seeped into their bones.
In the underground world, everyone was stunned.
Rumors spread faster than a plague.
In the tavern, a drunken sailor confidently claimed that he had seen the devil crawl out of the Charles River and spew green hellfire at "Butcher" Jack's warehouse, punishing him, the "skinner."
Overnight, the name Li Wei, an Easterner, became a taboo, shrouded in a mystery that no one dared to touch.
Butcher Jack has gone completely insane.
He was penniless, not a single copper coin left. Rum, cloth, tobacco—all the smuggled goods he relied on for a living had turned to ashes.
He couldn't afford to pay resettlement allowances, nor could he afford to buy gin to appease his hundreds of hungry wolves.
All that remained was his brute strength and increasingly brutal methods.
Anyone who complains about or questions him will have their bones broken by him and be thrown into the Charles River.
Panic is spreading within the Blood Hands Gang.
Jack, with nowhere to vent his anger, unleashed it all on the poorest people in the South District.
"Fire prevention tax" has become a new unofficial tax at the docks in southern Boston, ostensibly to protect everyone's safety.
But everyone knows that this is blatant robbery.
In Aunt Maggie's tailor shop, two thugs from the "Bloody Hands Gang" kicked over the charcoal brazier she used to iron clothes, and the scalding charcoal burned through the floor.
"Old woman, one shilling for fire prevention tax! Otherwise, we'll 'prevent' your shack in advance and burn it down!" A thug with a pockmarked face grinned maliciously, waving a torch in his hand.
Aunt Maggie shakily pulled out a few pennies she had hidden for a long time from under a ceramic jar; they were money she had saved to buy milk for her granddaughter.
"Hero, I... I have only this much..."
"Go to hell!" The pockmarked man kicked over the earthenware jar, and the few copper coins he had jingled and rolled into the cracks in the floor.
"Three days! I'll come back in three days, and if you don't have a single shilling, I'll send you begging on the streets and give your granddaughter a brothel!"
Ironically, even the cash depository is not immune to being "taxed".
In the "Red Rose" brothel, the madam, "Bloody Mary," was wiping the bar counter with a greasy rag.
At this time of day, the room would normally be filled with the crude laughter and curses of sailors mixed with the smell of cheap perfume.
But today, the house is cold and deserted.
Only two girls sat listlessly in the corner, and even the fire in the stove burned weakly.
The door was kicked open, and two thugs from the "Bloody Hand Gang" walked in, bringing not business, but a chilling aura.
"Mary, fire tax, five shillings." The leader said expressionlessly, extending his hand directly in front of her.
"My God, Buck, are you kidding me?" Mary slammed the rag onto the bar counter.
"Look at my place, it's quieter than a churchyard! The sailors are broke, the workers are starving, where am I supposed to conjure up five shillings for you? The girls didn't even get any dark bread today!"
Buck, one of the thugs, sneered. His companion grabbed a girl by the hair, slammed a knee into her stomach, and dragged her along the ground.
"No money?" Buck walked up to Mary, bent down, and sprayed her face with his foul breath.
"Then we'll burn down your pleasure quarters and send you and your girls to the docks to become real boat prostitutes!"
The girls screamed in terror at the horrific scene.
"Stop!" Mary's face turned pale, and she trembled as she pulled a cloth bag from a hidden compartment under the bar.
"Take it all! Take it all!"
Buck greedily stuffed the money into his pocket, and before leaving, he glanced back at the trembling girls and reached his dirty hands into their skirts.
He showed absolutely no mercy or tenderness towards women.
"Tell your guests that the South District is still Jack's territory. Anyone who dares to go to the North District, I'll break their legs!"
After they left, the room fell into a deathly silence. The girl who had been arrested collapsed to the floor, sobbing softly.
"Don't cry." Another slightly older girl walked over and helped her up, her voice hoarse.
"I heard from a guest who came back from the North District last night that... that Asian man was opening the granary and distributing grain, and there was hot soup to drink... He said it was like heaven."
"Heaven?" Mary gave a bitter smile, looking at her empty purse with despair in her eyes.
"For us, Boston is hell."
Similar scenes were playing out in every corner of the South District.
Families who couldn't pay had their livelihood tools smashed and were dragged into the street and beaten in public.
The Irish at the South Wharf were plunged into utter despair.
In the past two days, Irish boatmen from the North Wharf have been trying to help their compatriots in the South, but Finn and others have been holding them back at Li Wei's behest.
Li Wei is waiting.
On the third day, the day I had agreed upon for the distribution of benefits arrived.